Drabbles
by Altariel
Summary: Drabbles written for various occasions.
1. In the House of Tom Bombadil

**In the House of Tom Bombadil**

Old Tom Bombadil is a merry fellow!  
Bright blue his jacket is, and his boots are yellow.  
Tom gathers lilies fair to bring them to his lady;  
Tom gathers hobbit-strays and guides them onwards safely.  
In Tom's house your head will rest in peace upon its pillow,  
Your dreams will be contented dreams, freed from brook and willow.  
Tom's tales are tallest! Tom talks with badgers!  
Tom holds the rain back! Tom is the Master!  
Tom's hand can hold the Ring, he shines a blue eye through it –  
Yet Tom must sing his own song – no-one else will do it.

-o-0-o-

_Written for the LotR drabbles at HASA._


	2. Of Herbs and Stewed Rabbit

**Of Herbs and Stewed Rabbit**

It was a garden once, so the old ones tell us, but now these lands are hunting grounds.

Rosemary and I ventured forth to _silflay_, down away from the broken bones and the _hraka_. I caught the stench coming downwind and stamped my foot quick and hard – too late; the _embleer_ creature had its throttling hands around her throat and she was gone.

Tall men with bright spears and bright eyes hunt and slay each other. The forest runs red with blood and the owl shrieks in the night.

The Black Rabbit of Inlé stalks these lands. Frith protect us.

-o-0-o-

_Written for the LotR drabbles at HASA._


	3. The Window on the West

**The Window on the West**

Trials beneath the trees; tests of the heart in the garden of Gondor.

We fumble side-by-side in the darkness; our motives are obscure. We struggle to sidestep traps and snares. Dark visions have come between us – a grey boat's passing down the river to the sea. Bright visions rise up before us – a great rush of water; a city of light bejewelled; our noontide. Glimpses of lost glory and lost lore. Temptations in the twilight hour.

The chance is taken. Faith is kept; light and wisdom linger in the West.

Break bread together. Hold fast together. It will be enough.

-o-0-o-

_Written for the LotR drabbles at HASA._


	4. Homeward Bound

**Homeward Bound**

"You may be wondering," says Barliman, wiping a glass, "why am I standing 'ere, dressed in the clothes of my wife's mother."

The hobbits nod. Hearing a muffled curse, Sam peers round the bar. "Why are there two Ithilien Rangers hidden in them barrels?"

_"Hello!"_

"You'll find all's not well in the Shire," Barley explains.

"Now, Barliman," says Gandalf, "listen very carefully – I shall say this only once. We took the sword of the king from the shelf of the elf and gave it to the stranger Ranger who found the Halfling with the ring and..."

"Oh 'eck," says Barley.

-o-0-o-

_Written for the LotR drabbles at HASA._


	5. Gold Leaf

**Gold Leaf**

In April, it burst into golden flowers. It grew throughout that rich and radiant summer and, come the fall, its long leaves glowed in the last sun of the year.

When Sam touched this treasure, one came away, like a rope at its master's call. He used it as a bookmark, had it to hand as he embellished the lines of his own tree. The children liked to hold it – Elanor, Goldilocks, down to Baby Tom; Elfstan too when his turn came.

The book he gave to his own golden girl. The leaf he took with him, returning the gift.

-o-0-o-

_Written to celebrate the birthday of the HA mailing list  
6th April 2004_


	6. Time Past

**Time Past**

A king and his steward have much to talk about. Taxes and tariffs; placating the guilds and playing the council; restoring a city and a kingdom (or two). Present matters, future hopes.

Now and again, they find the time to talk of other things. And sometimes, when the business of the day is done, they talk about the past. He tells him of Ecthelion, a wise lord who welcomed him and loved his servant like his son. He tells him of Denethor, subtle and valiant and brilliant. He tells him of Finduilas, dancing, with white flowers braided in her hair.

-o-0-o-

_Written as a birthday present for Acacea, who asked for a Faramir-Aragorn conversation  
8th November 2004_


	7. Remembrance

**Remembrance**

In the first days, the memory of his brother can catch him unawares. It is shot through with anger, that after all their years of struggle, he missed the peace by a matter of weeks.

Later, a statue is put up, remembering his victory at the Fords. And there are other reminders too, less formal – his son's laugh, the shrug of his shoulders.

As the years go on, the thread is not lost, but picked up – part of the weft of the fuller tapestry of his life. Grief is not eternal, and beyond this world there is more than memory.

-o-0-o-

_Written as a birthday present for Annmarwalk, who asked for something about both or either of Denethor's magnificent sons  
11th November 2004_


	8. Little Green Man

**Little Green Man**

The Elves, they said, had woken them, but he had moved amongst them at the first drop of rain. He had seen them born. He heard the whisper when the first blow fell; smelt the first kindling and knew what it forebode. He felt the anger pulse and throb and quicken.

Dawn is spreading out across the forest. The leaves are new and green, and the blackbird's eyes are bright and restless. Down in a dark place, the willow creaks. Three ages of the sun have passed and more, and still he watches. Oldest and fatherless. Heart of the wood.

o 0 o

_Written for the third birthday of the Henneth Annûn mailing list; write a piece about trees, and the number 3._


	9. Flux

_A birthday drabble for Dwimordene, who asked for: "Something Kin-Strifish, which can include the arguments and tensions preceding the actual war. Post-war stuff would also be welcomed." I stretched "post-war" about as far as I could._

o-0-o

**Flux**

Ithilien did not forget the slaughter, the great hunger, the fires, the blood poured out upon its stones. All of it done in the name of purity, to force upon men a false settlement.

Yet all that is certain is that time will wear the world and change will come. Time will play out its patterns in the ripples on the river, and the sunlight on the leaves. Colours will commingle like the threads on the loom of Vairë herself: black for Númenor, fair for Rohan. One day all of Gondor will greet Ithilien's first Prince and his northern son.

o-0-o

_"The slaughter and destruction done in the city at Castamir's bidding far exceeded the needs of war. This was remembered in Minas Anor and in Ithilien..."_


	10. The Power Behind the Throne

For Dwimordene, in response to the birthday request: "I realize that it can be tough to write an AU in only 100 words, but for my birthday, I'd like to see you give it a shot."

* * *

**The Power Behind the Throne**

Taking it had been a kindness. The Ring-bearer had struggled at first but had soon become peaceful. That peace had settled upon all Gondor now, like frost.

With the bridge retaken, his father was ready to hear his counsel, and the new king too listened when he told him how he might win their war. The South and the East – and the North – paid homage to the West. Everyone listened, now.

But the White Tree did not blossom here, nor could the winter sun warm all of the new-laid marble and stone. This was not Minas Anor, as of old.


	11. The Age of Men

A birthday drabble for Dwimordene, who asked for "the turning point that never (quite) was".

**The Age of Men**

Then Faramir spoke, and in a clear voice said, "Behold! one has come to claim the kingship again at last! Shall he be king and enter into the city and dwell there?" And all the people with one voice cried, _Nay. _And Aragorn returned the crown to its casket, for it was no longer needed.

Thus began the Fourth Age, the Age of Men, freed of gods and masters. And the high towers and wide halls of the White City filled again, but not with lords, and the Tree blossomed, and Gondor and Arnor were reunited – not kingdom, but commonwealth.


	12. Not all the birds are to be trusted

**Not all the birds are to be trusted**

They took counsel and said, "Give it to the Windlord, brave and true. He can bear this burden for us, to the uttermost end." But it was a long journey, into peril, with the Winged Terror beating always at his back, and no companions for his flight.

Long have we guarded our borders, but how can men guard against the sky? First the grey mist feathered out from the East, and then great clouds of them came, shrouding the lands below. The shelling starts as if heaven itself has turned upon us, and everywhere inhuman eyes are bright and ever-watchful...


	13. Sunlight

**Sunlight**

The first day of spring and, as if commanded by some higher power, the City leaps to life. New green unfurling on the trees, the growing smell, the bright sun warm upon white stone.

She finds him in the archives, half-buried under scrolls and the weight of the past, lost in translation. He blinks like an owl when he sees her. There is dust upon his cheek.

She kisses it away. Soon they are walking again in the garden. It is twenty years to the day since they first saw each other and the world turned from its dark side.

o-0-o-

_Written munditia, who asked for a sunny drabble about Faramir and Eowyn, with grateful thanks for the translation!_


	14. Mother Country

**Mother Country**

Morwen of Lossarnach was no woman of sentiment. Queen, queen mother, she was the steel at the heart of the Golden Hall.

But Morwen loved – fiercely, sternly – and the sight of her daughter's orphans pierced her heart. The boy she left to his uncle and cousin. Sun-kissed, elder – there is always an abundance of feeling for such children. The little girl she claimed as hers, took to her – to temper and to fashion, to love and to shield. She forged an enduring bond, and when the girl became a woman, she could not help but love the south. Fiercely, sternly.

-o-0-o-

_Written as a birthday present for Dwimordene, who requested stories on the theme of 'adoption'._

_25th May 2010_


	15. A Mending of the Fellowship

**A Mending of the Fellowship**

They were sitting by a wall in the sun, sharing stories.

And it came to Faramir – as he listened to an Elf's account of a battle in Rohan, glossed at intervals gruffly by an attendant Dwarf – that there was some power to this work. Some power that picked up broken threads and wove them together into a new pattern. Some power in telling a part of his own tale – waking to the unexpected gift of an unfevered dawn, winning the White Lady. Some power, in hearing Pippin spin a tale of his brother that could make even the Ringbearer smile.

o0o0o0o

A drabble written for Marta.

_Altariel, 7th November, 2007_


	16. Head Man

**Head Man**

"_He was short-legged and fat-armed, thick and stumpy, and clad only with grass about his waist."_ RotK, V, 'The Ride of the Rohirrim'

From the top of a favoured tree, he sits and watches the gathering of the Horse-Men and the Tall-Men, and he listens to the Tallest Man grant to Ghân a forest that is already his.

At last they go, back to their stone houses, back to their bright iron. And old Ghân creeps along secret paths back to the glade, where the children hide-and-seek naked between the trees; where the men and women, grass-skirted, watch and laugh; where the sunshine speckles the green leaves in endless play. And old Ghân sleeps, and he does not fear the future. Not today.

oo000oo

Written for the B2MEM challenge: Day 8. Write a story or poem or create a piece of artwork reflecting identification with or connection to one's land, country or culture. Or write a story or poem or create a piece of artwork featuring kilts.

_Altariel, 31st March 2011_


	17. Bittersweet Watch

**Bittersweet Watch**

_Minas Tirith, 24th March 3019_

Elfhelm has kept watch for years now; seen her sorrows mount, stood between her and the Worm as best he could. He knew to look away when Dernhelm rose from nowhere. He will not yield her to anyone unworthy, not even the lord of two kingdoms.

The Steward is heavy-hearted, moves slowly, puts the back of his chair against the wall before sitting. Believes if all fails even the horsemen must take to the hills. But when Éowyn enters, his face lightens. "Lady," he says, turning to look up to her, "Sit. I would hear your counsel."

And Elfhelm surrenders.

oo0oo

_Altariel, 28th April 2011_


	18. Caretaking

**Caretaking**

_Minas Tirith, 2988 T.A._

After the funeral, Finduilas' brother stays, as the custom demands, to help bear the burden. But what aid can come to this heavy house? The walls and the roof may stand, but her death has severed feeling. In her wake remain a speechless man and two dazed boys.

The wintry skies weigh down like stone. Imrahil drifts around the house like a sinking ship. In a pale blue room, he finds the widower, sitting with his hand across his face. Propped beside him, a small boy keeps watch. Their fingers interlock. _Quiet_, the boy's eyes say. _He needs to sleep._


End file.
